


Can I Sign Your Cast?

by EmeraldAshes



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Anxiety, Connor Deserves Happiness, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, evan deserves happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:51:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldAshes/pseuds/EmeraldAshes
Summary: Connor is dealing with an itchy broken arm and idiotic therapy letters. Evan is planning to kill himself and wants to make some small mark on the world before he does. A role-reversal.





	Can I Sign Your Cast?

**Author's Note:**

> So I accidentally discovered Pinterest a month or so ago. This fic is inspired by two prompts that I don’t feel like hunting down at the moment:
> 
> 1) Connor knew that he was going to kill himself that day, and a lot of his actions are influenced by that, including offering to sign Evan’s cast.
> 
> 2) If Connor had the cast, Evan would end up writing so much that he accidentally fills it.
> 
> So props to the original idea-makers for getting my cogs going.

“Mom,” Evan murmured as he scribbled on a page of his notebook. “I love you. I want you to be happy. That’s why I’m…No.”

Evan crossed out the last line. “Mom, I’ve been going through a lot of stuff, and…No.”

He took a deep breath and turned over to a fresh page. “Mom, I love you. I’m sorry you had to find me like this. This is for the best.”

Heidi knocked on Evan’s door. “Are you up?”

“Yes! Just one, m-minute.” Evan folded the letter and stuffed it into his backpack. He then opened the cap to his medication and slipped two pills into a folded pair of socks. He hadn’t been taking the meds for a while now because it wasn’t like they fixed anything. He was still an anxious, friendless freak. He had been that way for as long as he could remember, but at least there was an end in sight now.

“You look cheerful this morning!” Heidi smiled at him. “Excited for your senior year?”

Evan smiled back. “Yeah, I guess.”

Heidi squeezed his shoulders, and he let her. She was going to remember this morning, was going to think about it a lot. He wanted her to have this moment for later. “This is gonna be your year, honey. I’m sure of it.”

Evan shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Just promise me you’ll talk to one other kid today, somebody who isn’t Jared?”

Evan felt dread fill his stomach. “I’ll…I’ll try.”

Heidi’s voice rose in fake cheer as she ruffled his hair. “I’m proud of you already. I wish I could take you out to dinner tonight so you could tell me all about it, but I have to work. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, though. I promise.”

For once, Evan was glad his mom had to work through the night. He knew that dying by pills wasn’t at all like falling asleep. He was probably going to vomit and cry and be in a lot of pain. He needed the house to be empty, or his mom might find him too soon.

Heidi fished his bottle of pills out of his drawer and shook it. “Do you need another refill?”

“No, Mom,” Evan said as he tied his shoes.

“You’re sure? It seems like you’re getting low.”

“I have enough.”

* * *

Cynthia Murphy poured her husband a cup of coffee. “Maybe we should let him stay home.”

“He has to go eventually. Connor can’t drop out of school just because he…” Larry glanced up from his emails, an uneasy look on his face. This had been their family for weeks, ever since Connor broke his arm: half-hearted arguments and awkward silences.

Connor glared at his untouched toast. “It was an accident.”

It burned him that they didn’t believe him. They never fucking believed him. The fact that he was lying didn’t diminish that. Cynthia moved to stroke his hair, and Connor shied away from the touch.

“Have you written any letters yet for Dr. Sherman?”

Connor grabbed a butter knife and tried to scratch an itch under his cast. “No.”

“You have an appointment today,” Cynthia continued.

“Look, I’m not going to be tricked into writing a fucking diary entry. I’m not a teenage girl, right Zoe?”

“Fuck you,” Zoe said as she looked for the milk, grumbling when she only found an empty carton.

“Connor, will you _please_ just write one?” Cynthia looked exhausted as she sat down, a coffee cup cradled in her hands.

Connor swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed out to the car.

* * *

The bus was crowded. A couple of kids were throwing pencils at each other, and one of them poked Evan’s shoulder. He could hear people shouting even though he had earphones in. But it was only for one more day. Evan could do anything for one day.

“H-how was your summer?” Evan asked Jared when he met him on the way to first period.

“My bunk dominated in capture the flag, and I got to second base below the bra with a girl from Israel who’s going to be in the army, so _yeah_ , that’s how it was.”

Jared didn’t ask the question back. He probably knew that Evan hadn’t done anything, and honestly, Evan would have just said “Fine.” It would have been nice, though, if Jared had asked.

One more day, Evan reminded himself. Not even a full day. He would be home before 3 o’clock and gone before he had to worry about ordering takeout for dinner. Evan tried to find the good mood he’d woken up with this morning, tried to grasp that relief that everything would be over soon, but he just felt tired.

“Hey, Connor,” Jared called out to another student. “How does it feel to be the first person in history to break his arm by jacking off too much? Or do you consider that an honor?”

Connor stilled, staring straight at Jared.

Jared smiled, a touch nervously. “That was a joke.”

Evan had spent his whole life clapping politely on the sidelines and staring longingly through windows. Maybe…maybe he just wanted to make some impact before disappearing forever. Maybe he wanted someone to remember him as more than a face in a crowd. Maybe he wanted to do something right for once.

“It’s n-not funny, Jared.”

Jared pursed his lips, then clapped Evan on the back as he left for class. “This is why nobody hangs out with you.”

Jared had been looking for an excuse to ditch Evan since freshman year. So that was, that was it. Evan was alone now. It didn’t matter, of course. He would be dead before morning anyway. But even that wasn’t a happy thought, not really. His life had gone so off the rails that the best option was to abandon the train. And what if—despair started to seep into Evan’s body—what if it didn’t work? What if Evan didn’t die?

Evan’s breaths came fast and shallow, punctuated by a sudden, loud sob. He would usually go to the nurse during a panic attack, but then she would insist on calling his mom, and Heidi would take off work to stay with him. One more day would turn into two more, or three, and Evan would lose his nerve. It had to be today.

Evan fled to the nearest bathroom and locked himself inside a stall.

* * *

Feeling like an idiot, Connor started writing a therapy letter in the margins of his history notebook.

_Dear Connor Murphy,_

_Today is going to be a good day because some guy I barely knew stood up to his friend for me._

Yeah, okay, maybe that was a little too hopeful. Connor added, _And then he ran away crying._

The next thought solidified as Connor wrote it.

_I’m going to thank him._

Connor waved his notebook, interrupting Ms. Schmidt’s thrilling description of the syllabus. “Yo, teacher. Bathroom?”

She frowned but initialed his pass, too new to the school to realize that he wouldn’t be coming back. Connor swung his backpack over his shoulder and took off toward the bathroom Evan Hansen had raced into earlier. As he swung the door open, he heard ragged breathing from the furthest stall. Connor knocked on it, and the breathing stopped.

“Thanks for earlier,” Connor said. “That was pretty alright of you.”

The breathing resumed, peppered with gasps and sniffles. Fuck, he really was crying. “You’re Evan, right?”

“Evan,” the boy in the stall mumbled.

Connor frowned. “I’m pretty sure that’s what I said.”

“S-sorry. Y-you had it right, I just...Sorry.”

Connor was not prepared to handle crying. Zoe was better at that sort of thing. Of course, Zoe was better at pretty much everything, and it’s not like she was going to skip her first class to give sunshine and lollipops to every loser in the school. Besides, while this was definitely Kleinman’s fault, Connor still felt guilty.

“…How was your summer?” Connor asked.

“F-fine.”

Okay, fuck it. Evan clearly didn’t want to talk. He probably wanted to be left alone, not pitied by some creepy asshole he didn’t even know. Connor should just—”

“H-how was your, um, summer?” Evan’s breaths seemed more even, though a deep sniffle followed the question.

Connor leaned against the sink, careful not to put too much weight on his cast. “Boring. The highlight was breaking my arm.”

Another sniffle, then with strained brightness, “Oh, r-right. How did you b-break it?”

“I fell off a bridge,” Connor said, then added, “I was really high at the time.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. He had been pretty fucking high. That just wasn’t the reason why he had decided to jump off a bridge. The lock on Evan’s stall rattled, and the boy peered out. His eyes were red and puffy. He smiled weakly at Connor. “C-can I sign your cast?”

Connor stared at him.

Evan ducked his head. “S-sorry. I didn’t think…Of c-course you probably want to keep it blank, like how snow is pretty until someone steps on it—”

Connor shoved a sharpie into Evan’s hands.

* * *

Evan tentatively took the sharpie, thinking that this was a stupid idea. Sure, maybe it would be nice to leave a mark on something, but it was just a signature. It would be thrown away in a few weeks anyway. Evan gently grasped Connor’s cast.

_Evan_ , he wrote, except there are a lot of Evans and he wasn’t exactly Connor’s friend, so he added, _Hansen,_ then _Thanks._ That was really vague, though, and weirdly ominous, so he put in some context and a compliment about Connor’s new haircut. By the time he was done, the entire cast was taken up by his rambling.

Connor stared down it, clearly annoyed. “Wow.”

“S-sorry. I kind of got…” Evan, flushed with embarrassment, returned the sharpie. Connor grabbed Evan’s wrist. Evan yelped in anticipation of pain, his eyes scrunched closed. All he felt, though, was the cool brush of a marker on his arm. When Evan opened his eyes, he was kind of expecting a dick or or insult or something like that, but instead he saw Connor’s name in huge letters down his forearm.

“There,” Connor said with a snicker. “Now we’re even.”

For the first time in weeks, Evan laughed, and someone else laughed with him.

Evan was still chuckling as he washed his face, rinsing off the sticky smudges of his tears.

When Evan looked up, he saw Connor’s reflection watching him in the mirror. “I’m skipping. Want to come with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> There's definitely potential for a second chapter here, but I have no current plans to write one. So feel free to leave suggestions in the comments.


End file.
